


Uluru Steak

by Sonora



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reality Show, Alternate Universe - Restaurant, Dysfunctional Family, Family Feels, Incest, M/M, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-12
Updated: 2016-04-21
Packaged: 2018-05-19 22:57:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5983486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sonora/pseuds/Sonora
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yancy takes the Hansens' offer to visit his new head chef in Las Vegas.  Raleigh comes along.  (Jaz doesn't)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It’s hard not to squirm right now.

Not that Yancy doesn’t have his pride - in himself, in his food. He does. The beat down of the last few years not withstanding, he knows he’s a good cook. Herc wouldn’t have made him that overly generous job offer if he wasn’t a good cook, right? Or at least, he’s got the potential to be. To cook at this level.

It’s still hard not to squirm.

Chef Trevin Gage is _intense_.

And Herc’s leaving Yancy in the - gorgeous, spotless, massive - Uluru Steak kitchen with him.

“I think you should know, I didn’t watch your episodes,” Chef Gage says, no preamble at all, now that they’re alone. “Didn’t want to be infected by the bullshit.”

“I thought they were pretty fair...”

“I don’t care about that damn show,” his new boss says, drumming his fingers against one of the many gleaming stainless steel surfaces. “What I do care about is the big guy sending me a kid who’s apparently run his mom’s restaurant into the ground, praising the fuck out of him like he’s the second coming or some shit like that.” 

It’s boilerplate ball busting, and Yancy knows he should be paying it more attention than he should, but he just can’t. Not standing in this space, ivory tile and Wolf stoves, the scent of the hardwood grills full of promise. Yancy’s torn between not watching to touch anything, and wanting to touch _everything_. He can’t believe he’s going to get to cook in this kitchen. Of course, if he fucks today up, he probably won’t ever be able to cook in here again, so he decides to give it everything he can and savor it, just in case. 

But Chef Gage is going to expect an answer, and like Raleigh told him before he left the room this morning, _don’t forget, you’re interviewing him too, so be honest with the guy._ Even if it’s not really an interview, not with his signature on file with Hansen Group HR. “I was as surprised as you were he offered me a job.”

“Yeh, I bet.” Chef Gage gives him a once over, real obvious about it. “I’m gonna ask you something, in hope that you’re not going to be a jackass about it. You fuck him?”

“What?”

Chef Gage starts to say something and then just sighs and bends down, coming back up with a tray of meat. Filet mignon, New York strip... “I had a joke I was workin’ on, about meat and dick sucking or something, but now it’s kind of slipped my mind. Cook me some shit, okay?” Chef Gages checks his watch. “It’s not really fair, but how’s twenty minutes sound?”

“Sounds fine, Chef.”

With Chef Gage watching him like a hawk, Yancy takes a moment to gather his thoughts. He took the time to look this place up before he came - only an idiot would walk into another man’s kitchen unprepared. He knows the menu here, he knows what they’re known for, what kind of specials they run. Heirloom pork, Montana venison, free-range chicken, fish flown in straight from San Francisco’s markets daily. Good produce - excellent produce, judging by what he sees in front of him here. But the star of any steakhouse is the beef, and everything here is top, top, top quality. Grass fed, dry-aged to perfection. 

So whatever he does with that, the temperature, the carmelization, the seasoning all has to be perfect. Not too fussy; not overdone. 

But simply grilling up a steak isn’t going to cut it. 

Not at the number two steakhouse in Las Vegas.

No, he needs to do something _grand_.

So Yancy figures a calculated risk is in order.

“Where’re you going?”

He grits his teeth. Chef Gage might look exactly like his brother, Bruce, that happy-go-lucky camera guy on Pentecost’s crew, but dear god, he’s weaponized his disapproval. “Walk-in, Chef.”

“I gave you a tray of meat.”

“What’s a good steak without a side or two?” Yancy says as he cracks the door to the massive fridge, trying not to go weak at how well stocked this damn place is. They have everything. Including a massive selection of mushrooms. At least five different varieties... and when he sees the small stash of bottles with Japanese labels there in the back, he knows exactly what he wants to do.

“Mushrooms ain’t exactly creative there, Becket.”

Yancy grabs the fish stock. Onion, mirin, soy sauce, ginger... they’ve got everything he needs. It’s a gamble, but this place has a sort of West Coast, almost Australian vibe, to it and this could be something he could see on as a special. Maybe. If that’s not too arrogant a thought to be having at the moment. “They are the way I do ‘em.”

+++++

“So what do you call these?” Chef Gage asks, spearing another of the little mushroom caps.

“I call it a Las Vegas take on Japanese gyudon,” Yancy replies, and dear lord, that boy is nervous, hands fiddling with the cloth he’s got tucked into the waist ties of his apron. Herc wants to tell him to knock it off, but honestly, his newest employee needs to handle his hardest executive chef on his own. Trevin acts like an asshole most of the time - losing your pilot’s slot due to colorblindness does that to a bloke - but he’s a true leader. Team focused. Bends over backwards to mentor and grow his people. He’s exactly what Yancy needs right now, but Yancy needs to prove himself first. “It’s pretty straightforward, I guess, but I was going for...”

“Fuck me, I’ve been to Tokyo and I’ve never put fish stock on a steak,” Chuck interrupts, cutting him off with a wave of his fork. “I take it you were going for a dashi substitute?”

“Yeah, I didn’t see it back there in the walk-in.”

“You worked some magic, because this is fucking delicious,” Herc says, and looks very pointedly over at Chef Gage. “Told you he was good, didn’t I?”

“Beef’s a bit overdone for my taste,” Chef Gage replies, and spears it, holding up the cut section. “What temperature is that, Becket?”

“Just to the south of medium, Chef,” Yancy answers immediately, and Herc can see the self-recrimination in the slump of his shoulders. 

Cut of meat this good, really should have been done medium-rare.

Herc shakes his head. “This is one of the reasons I wanted you to have him, Trevin.”

“So I can teach his over-achieving ass the importance of technical precision?”

“Something like that.”

“It’s a steakhouse. Overcooking the steak isn’t a small problem.”

“Thirty seconds less cooking time, Trev. You tellin’ me you can’t fix thirty seconds?”

Trevin gives Yancy a once-over and then takes another bite of the steak. “The seasoning’s right, at least. But we’re not cooking for a bunch of overweight fishermen and lumberjacks or whatever the fuck it is you boys up in Alaska do, you understand me, Becket? You want to keep your job here, you better step it up.”

“Yes, Chef.”

“Good. Go clean your mess up. My prep guys need that space.”

Yancy gets up, making to clear the plate away, but Trevin just waves him off. Herc sits back, sipping at his water, playing it cool until the boy walks off, and only then does he look over at his chef.

“The fuck, Trev?” Herc half-groans, the second the kitchen doors swing shut. “He made you a fucking delicious dish, and that’s how you fucking respond? I can’t remember the last time you were that critical of a new cook.”

Trevin’s just watching the door, not really listening. “I can’t believe he took that.”

“Boy’s exhausted. I believe I mentioned that in my email.”

“Oh you did, boss, you did.” Trevin cuts himself another bite of that steak. “Wasn’t really expect him to be... he made love to this thing. I was watching him. He’s got good instincts, that’s for sure. I’d expected a bit more arrogance out of him, honestly.”

“I’d like to have him around for a while, Trev.”

“I can fix the technical issues I see here, but I’m gonna do it my way.”

“I’m counting on it,” Herc tells him, firm as he can. 

“He’s gonna be a surgeon in the kitchen by the time I get done with him,” Trevin promises, and his eyes flick over to Chuck. “What’re your thoughts on this guy?”

“Shows promise. Needs to stop sulking around like a kicked puppy,” Chuck answers promptly, and shrugs. “He can fuckin’ cook at least. Not like a lot of the sad sacks who send us resumes.”

“Well,” Trevin drawls, “I suppose it’s better to have him down here than wasting away up in Alaska.”

“Exactly my point,” Herc agrees.

Chuck, silent as he normally is when there aren’t any cameras around to ham to, finishes the last of the mushrooms. He’s thinking about something. Herc’s got a sneaking suspicion it’s probably sex.

+++++

Up to his elbows in soapy water, i’s difficult not to feel deflated; it’s been a while since Yancy’s had the opportunity to cook a cut of meat that nice and screwing it up _hurts_. But at the same time, it’s not as if he fucked the thing to well-done. Pasture raised beef is fucking expensive, and it’s been so long since he’s had the chance to cook the stuff, he forget to adjust his times. It cooks faster. He _knows_ that.

But still, he’d worked his ass off for that dish, delivered above and beyond what he was asked to, and personally, he thinks he did damn well. Not that he’s going to stand there in front of a man who recently received his first Michelin star and argue with him. If Chef Gage doesn’t like how he cooked his meat, he’ll just have to keep plugging away at it until he gets it right.

He can do this.

He has to do this.

Things have gotten... weird, maybe, on him this week. 

Jaz is staying with one of their aunts for a while. The rest of the summer, no doubt. Dad’s step-sister, the one who isn’t related to them but always sent them Christmas gifts; Dad’s step-sister, the one who always hated him. She reached out the night after the last episode aired - _your grandpa’s been wondering why we haven’t heard from that asshole in months, but you’ve got no excuse for not calling me, young man_. Yancy hadn’t thought too much about contacting any of the extended family - Grandpa’s in the early stages of Alzheimer’s and the last thing he wants to do is add to the stress - but Jaz, well. Jaz needs more normalcy than Yancy can offer her right now. 

At least Aunt Gloria paid for the plane ticket. The one way plane ticket to San Diego.

Yancy’s pretty sure he’ll be shipping Jaz’s stuff down there, instead of to Las Vegas when they move at the end of the month. 

At least it’s not that far of a drive.

Yancy’s ashamed that he had to ask her not to tell anybody about him and Raleigh, when he dropped her off at the airport. And Jaz just threw her arms around him and kissed his cheek and promised him she still loved them and wasn’t mad at either of them at all.

Raleigh, at least, is sticking around. He’s already put in an application to UNLV, but is probably going to have to start in January, instead of this September, and is looking at construction jobs in the area. At least they’ve got a degree program that works for him, and there are some financial aid options available, with their circumstances. He’s out there today, actually, talking to an adviser, and he seemed pretty excited about it this morning over breakfast, down in the Caesar’s Palace buffet.

But things are still strained. Jaz leaving... Raleigh took that pretty hard. And now he’s pulling back, all that sweetness from the past few months withering. Yancy wants to tell him it’s okay, wants to offer him comfort, but everything’s gotten all fucked up between them all now.

Yancy’s not sure what to do about it. 

He’s got a job now, at least, a shot at a better future, and that’s got to be worth something. Chef Gage can’t fire him before he even starts, can he? Well, maybe he can, but he probably won’t. Not with Herc and Chuck out there in the dining room. 

Yancy’s not sure if it’s fair to consider that reassurance. 

He doesn’t want anybody’s charity. Even if he does kind of desperately need it right now.

“Oi, Becket?”

Chuck. Yancy, hand on the hose, just raises an eyebrow. “What?”

“Gage is fucking with you, but he can piss off. You’re our guest right now. C’mon. Let’s go see the rest of the hotel.”

Despite himself, Yancy finds himself smiling. “Yeah, sure. That sounds nice.”


	2. Chapter 2

“Was your brother gonna meet us or what?”

Sitting out by the Neptune pool, tie banished to a pocket and top two buttons popped open, Yancy’s not really sure how appropriate any of this is. Chuck’s his boss now - sort of, definitely in a year or two from now, if they decide to move him over to the Marquesas, Chuck’s new project. At the same time, Chuck’s a good four years younger than him, and all that brilliant maturity on display in his food appears to have come at the cost of everything else.

He swaggers, he blusters, he’s wearing a pair of aviators right now like he’s a goddamn fighter pilot, rips into anybody who can’t answer his questions immediately, and there have been a _lot_ of questions asked today. 

They’ve criss-crossed every inch of Caesar’s Palace, Chuck’s notoriety enough to get them into just about everywhere (except for the gambling cages, and that wasn’t because Chuck didn’t try). There are at least a dozen kitchens here other than their own and some of them, like the catering and buffet areas, are unbelievable. Yancy doesn’t quite understand the business model here - Uluru Steak isn’t officially part of the casino, but it’s also not _not_ \- but he’s hoping that he’ll get a chance to circulate through some of that, broaden his experience. Way Yancy figures it, he’d be an idiot not to get the exposure while he can. 

Chuck had sneered at the idea when Yancy casually mentioned it to the on-duty kitchen manager, but it’s kind of expected for a Michelin-starred chef to look down on banquet catering. He’s really quite a bit more curious than he pretends to be - Yancy’s under no illusions that the impromptu tour was for the benefit of some new employee. Chuck wanted to see all that too, using Yancy as an excuse to do so. 

Yancy’s not going to say anything to him, though. No, it’s just fine to sit here in their own private cabana, sipping his own cocktail while Chuck’s drink is being remade - _don’t give me any of that well shit_ , as if Bombay Sapphire is somehow beneath him. 

Chuck’s the kind of adorable, sweet, wannabe douchebag Yancy would normally be all over. The boy you want to just _wreck_ in bed, who’d look so pretty while you did it and then cuddle into you and demand a second round. 

Hence the problem. 

Chuck’s his boss.

And, of course...

“Raleigh, yeah,” Yancy says, and fumbles for his phone again, while he’s thinking about it. “I have no idea.”

No messages, not since the last one from a few hours back saying he was on his way back from the university, that he had the rental car and did Yancy need anything? Yancy hadd sent a text back immediately - _drinks by the pool @ 4, wanna hear about ur day_ \- that hasn’t so much as been read.

“The old man set up a surprise for tonight. Your damn brother better not blow it.”

Yancy curls his fingers slowly around his phone. They’ve only got three nights here, and Pentecost and Mako are going to be out tomorrow . He’d promised Raleigh they’d carve out some time together. Be decadent, spend a bit of that moving allowance, try to make all this shit up to him. All Yancy wants is for Raleigh to be happy, and he knows he’s not being a very good brother or boyfriend or whatever it is he is to the kid now. If he’s anything at all anymore. 

“You always call your dad that?” Yancy asks, trying to center himself on the here and now. Mama always told him not to borrow trouble.

“What?”

“Your old man?”

“Why not? That’s what he is.”

“I don’t know, just thought you’d prefer _Daddy_ or something like that,” Yancy tells him with a grin.

Chuck turns red. Flaming red. “Oi, I’m not...”

“Hey guys.”

Yancy almost chokes on his drink.

It’s Raleigh - of course it is. Standing there with his back to the afternoon sun, framed in desert light, his normal dark blond hair practically glowing. Haloed. He looks like a goddamn angel, and Yancy kind of hates himself for thinking it.

Raleigh’s always been... Raleigh. Yancy’s little brother. There. Here, with him. But at some point in all of this, the wires got crossed in Yancy’s head and the first thing that registers is how _hot_ this guy standing in front of him is. Cause Raleigh is just... hot. 

Most of their combined wardrobe is nothing but sweaters and jeans and work-out clothes, but Raleigh had drug Yancy’s ass to the local Men’s Wearhouse last week - _you can’t seriously show up in jeans to this interview, come on_ \- and Yancy’s condition was that Raleigh get himself something too. Just in case. They are moving out here to Vegas, after all, and Vegas is all about opulence, however hollow it might be.

But where Yancy had gone for something dark and conservative, something he can wear for a while, Raleigh had gone more trendy, taken full advantage of that free tailoring thing. And as a result, he looks like pure sex right now.

Or maybe that’s just Yancy.

He’s still pretty sure he’s going to have to be beating everyone, including the Hansens, off with a stick.

 _Haha, no pun intended,_ he thinks to himself and feels slightly ill.

“Guys started without me?” Raleigh asks, a little hesistant.

“Don’t be a wet blanket, Ray,” and Chuck kicks out a chair. “Sit that hot arse of yours down and get a drink.”

That handsome face contorts a bit, more with confusion than anything else, if Yancy knows his brother, but Raleigh’s frowning when he sits down. “It’s Raleigh,” he corrects, icy.

“Whatever,” Chuck replies with a smirk that makes Yancy want to lean forward and flick his earlobe. 

What the hell? He’s had his dick up the kid’s ass.

It gets a yelp out of Chuck and a smile out of Raleigh. The waiter comes back with Chuck’s gin and ginger ale and takes Raleigh’s order and things loosen up a bit.

Although yeah. Chuck is definitely checking Raleigh out.

Yancy’s not sure how he should feel about that. 

“So what’s this surprise your dad’s got for us?” he asks carefully, putting emphasis on the last word.

“Surprise?” Raleigh asks, voice neutral, but it cuts Yancy to the bone. He knows the sound of his brother’s disappointment by now.

“Yeah, surprise, right,” Chuck says, like he’s oblivious to the discomfort of the other two men at the table. Like what comes out of his mouth next is somehow _mundane_. “Dad got us an early res for the chef’s table at Guy Savoy.”

Yancy chokes on his drink so hard that Raleigh actually - jokingly - slaps his back a few times, and it’s horrible, but all Yancy can think about is how this is the first time they’ve touched in almost a week.

Hell. Raleigh doesn’t even hug him anymore.

+++++

Food’s not Raleigh’s passion. It was always Yancy’s thing with Mama, and not like Raleigh can’t cook or anything - cause he can, really well - but it’s more a mechanical thing for him. An engineering problem. Ingredients plus heat equals dinner. Mama always said he was more baker than cook, but even then, Yancy’s the one who does most of the family’s baking. He doesn’t get emotional over this shit.

But it’s impossible to be unmoved by the pristine culinary landscape around them, at once as magnificent and as familiar as the kitchens where Mama used to work.

Impossible to stay angry at Yancy over blowing up their simple plans to hit the Strip and take in the neon cool of the desert night.

Even if he really, really wants to be angry at Yancy. Or somebody. Something. Feels like his skin’s peeling off and Raleigh just wants it to _stop_. Wants some way to release it all.

Really, it’s his own fault. All on him, one hundred percent of the blame. Him and his fucked-up head. Jaz is gone because of him - and yeah, Yancy’s trying to bullshit him on that, but Raleigh knows she isn’t coming back. Because he pressured Yancy into... experimenting? Fooling around? Damn if it isn’t the best thing he’s ever felt in his life, but that’s kind of the problem too. 

It’s not worth what’s left of his family. But Yancy’s all that’s left of his family. If they could go back to what they were - if that’s even possible now that they’ve done what they’ve done - would that bring Jaz back? Or Dad? Or any of it? 

Would that fix it?

He just wants to fix this.

All the things in his life he broke.

Raleigh knows he shouldn’t be so maudlin over all this shit right now. They’re at the chef’s table at Guy Savoy, one of the best restaurants in Las Vegas, Herc telling some story about the time he and his brother almost set their first restaurant on fire, and it’s been eight courses of exquisite food and perfectly matched wine pairings that would make almost anyone cry. 

He should be warm and happy and sated. He should be. Anyone would be. But Raleigh’s not, because he’s not anyone, just the fucked up little brother who’s watching his big brother watch another man who’s fucking his own equally sexy flesh-and-blood with no compunction and feeling completely helpless against the surge of jealousy in his chest, because the three of them fucked a few months back and now Herc’s playing fairy godmother and he’s gorgeous and sexy and loaded and _skilled_ and...

And Yancy’s touching his leg. Lighting every nerve up like it’s Christmas.

Raleigh’s got it bad. He knows he does. It hurts, physically _aches_ , to be sitting here right next to Yancy and yet be so far away. Yancy, in that classic new dark suit and hair all slicked back, so goddamn sexy and pretty and... _Yancy_. 

Fuck. Nothing's making sense in his head. Maybe it’s the food, or maybe it’s the fact he’s pretty much been drinking all afternoon, since he spent half an hour trying to find Yancy, only to discover Chuck Hansen practically perched in his lap, no space for Raleigh to tell Yancy about the great day he had down at the university. No way to tell him he’s got the paperwork filed, that they’re going to grant him an exception and let him start in the fall.

Shouldn’t he, the little brother, have the lion’s share of Yancy’s time? Why do the Hansens get to monopolize it?

“Hey kid, you still with me here?”

Raleigh can’t quite answer, because he doesn’t have an answer for that. “Sorry, jetlagged or something,” he lies, and goes back to his port. Dessert’s up next. Whatever dessert’s going to be. Herc wouldn’t let the head chef give them the menu for the evening. _Surprise us,_ he’d said with a grin, like he knew exactly how much stress that was going to put on the brigade. 

At least it’s good port. The kind of port Dad would have liked.

“It’s not that much of a time difference,” Yancy says, icy. Cold. The same disapproving tone Dad would have used, always used, until...

Raleigh’s stomach twists up.

It’s just too much.

He throws his napkin up on the table and pushes Yancy’s hand off his leg. “I gotta take a piss,” he says bluntly, and gets up; he sat on the outside edge of the booth, just in case.

Raleigh would like to think he storms off. 

He’d like to think a lot of things right now.

Yancy catches up with him before he can go wherever it is he’s going - he doesn’t really need to pee, and he doesn’t want to run away, but he doesn’t know what else to do. So it’s with weary, slightly sodden, resignation that he stops in the service corridor when his big brother barks a “stop!” at him.

Slumping back against the wall, Raleigh wishes he was drunk enough to miss the hurt in Yancy’s eyes.

“What the hell is going on with you?” Yancy demands, leaning on a hand against the wall, body close and arm all but pinning Raleigh down.

“I don’t know,” he says helplessly. “I just thought... I thought we were getting dinner together tonight, or... something. Do some brother shit.”

“You knew this was a business trip for me.”

Raleigh shakes his head. “I get that, Herc’s your boss now, new employers and all that but...”

“And this is Guy Savoy, Rals. Guy Savoy. Can you stop being a little bitch long enough to let me...”

“Let you?” Raleigh feels that anger building. He knows he’s not _letting_ Yancy do anything right now, and he knows that’s the problem, and he doesn’t need Yancy pointing that out to him. “It’s not my job to let you...”

“You’re like a goddamn foghorn of irritation right now!”

“You promised me we’d have some time together!” 

“Raleigh, I see you every day. Every day. This isn’t...”

“You mean they aren’t!” Raleigh snaps back, arms folded, not sure what he’s feeling or what he should be saying. It’s all gummed up in his head. His stupid fucked up head. 

Yancy pulls back a little, face falling, and the aggressiveness in his posture falls away. He looks more exhausted than usual. “Rals, please try to understand...”

Raleigh shakes his head. “Dude, if you... you should, you know?”

His brother’s voice gets very soft. “Raleigh.”

“Just do it, okay? It’s better than me, right?” He tries to chuckle, but he’s not feeling it - there’s no humor in any of this - and even to his ears, it’s a terrible sound. “Do your thing. it’s okay.”

“No, honey...”

 _Honey_. Yancy was starting to call him that in... “I’m just really tired, okay? I’m gonna go back to the room and go to bed.”

Yancy doesn’t answer for a moment. “You sure you don’t want some company?”

“No,” Raleigh replies, as firmly as his crumbling resolve will let him.

Even at that, part of him desperately wants Yancy to hear the pain beating out in his heart.

Part of him wants Yancy to kiss him. Or tell him no. Or go back with him. Or follow him. Or anything.

Instead, Raleigh cocoons up alone, in their suite, wrapped in the down comforter as the decadent lights of Las Vegas flash outside with the AC turned down to damn near fifty-five. And Yancy doesn’t come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I seriously don't even know. This shouldn't be this hard. My work hours suck and I'm dating somebody again, and my mom is monopolizing all of my free time and I'm on a family trip this weekend. And I've been drinking since ten AM. So... yeah. Promise we'll pick up in a bit.


	3. Chapter 3

“So,” Herc says as Yancy slides back into his seat, “your brother won’t be joining us for dessert, I take it?”

“No, he uhh,” but Yancy can’t think of a good lie. “He went back to the room.”

“Right,” his new boss replies calmly.

Makes Yancy want to crawl under the table and die. Fuck, the last thing in the world he needs is more disapproval. He’s fucking swimming in the shit right now, and Herc’s going to be signing his paychecks, and Raleigh has to go and fucking embarrass him like this.

And then - of course - Chuck has to make it worse.

“So, that butthurt of his literal or figurative?”

Thankfully though...

“Chuck, the fuck’s wrong with you?”

“Oi, he’s the one who wants to act like a little bitch and storm out of a place like this...”

“You can’t say...”

“It’s damn disrespectful!” Chuck snaps at his dad, and then, like he knows he’s gone too far, blushes bright red. Tries to hide it by gulping down what’s left of his port but ends up just coughing into his sleeve.

Yancy’s not sure what to say to that, much less what he _can_. He’s not one to kiss ass, but after his little miscalculation with the steak this morning, the last thing he wants is for Herc to have an excuse to fire him. 

Not that he thinks Herc would fire him. 

Herc likes him, doesn’t he? Likes his food and his body well enough, at least. The latter’s not going to carry Yancy through this - he won’t let himself do that, even if he is kind of that desperate to train in a Michelin-starred restaurant - so the former’s got to be up to snuff. Has to be more than good enough. He can’t go back to Alaska, losing this, losing his chance to cook in a kitchen like this and learn from masters like this and do something more than whatever the fuck it was his future had in store for him before Jaz wrote into the show...

“You done there, Yance?”

Yancy starts a bit, shaken from his thoughts. “Umm, I thought there was, like, another course?”

“Yeah, got that covered,” Herc says, and gestures over the sous chef who’s been taking care of them all night. Yancy can’t quite figure the woman out, if she knows Herc personally or if that excessive familiarity she’s been oozing all night is mere invitation. _She’s got no idea_. “Why don’t you take yours and get out of here? We’ve wasted enough of your time tonight.”

“Oh, I, uh...” 

It’s too late to protest; dessert’s arrived. In neat little to-go boxes. In the hands of the sous chef, who seems hell-bent on having one last, painfully long conversation with Herc that finally ends when he points back at the kitchen and tells her it looks like she just got an eight top in. Chuck spends the whole thing sort of.... watching.

Must suck, Yancy muses to himself. It’s not like Chuck can claim the relationship publicly, and with Herc being one of the biggest names in the industry, this sort of shit must happen all the time.

Chuck taps the paper top of his own to-go box as the chef walks off. “So we done here or what?”

“Yeah, son, we’re done,” Herc sighs. “Yancy, you wanna get going?”

“We could all get out of here. Like, you guys’ room?” Yancy asks - because fuck it, that’s why. 

“You aren’t worried about your brother?”

“He’s the one who fucking walked out on me.”

Herc shoves dessert closer to Yancy’s hand. “Let me tell you something about little brothers. You never stop worrying ‘bout ‘em.”

And wow, that man knows how to lay on a guilt trip, doesn’t he? Ties Yancy’s stomach into knots, instantly. He sighs. “I...”

Chuck lays a room card on top of the little foil box. “Come by for breakfast.”

“Bring Raleigh,” Herc adds, giving Chuck not a small amount of side-eye.

“I’ll think about it,’ Yancy promises.

He does. All the way back to his own room. As he puts dessert in the little fridge. As he strips to his boxers, grateful to be out of that damn suit. As he flicks back the covers on the bed that Raleigh - fast asleep, or ignoring him, or somewhere in between - isn’t in.

Yancy thinks about it.

He climbs in next to Raleigh anyway. Right up against him, pulling that warm, pliant body into his arms. 

The kid can fucking deal with it. If Yancy’s going to feel guilty about fucking anyone who’s not Raleigh, he sure as hell isn’t going to feel guilty about cuddling with Raleigh. Raleigh’s the one who jumped his cock, anyway. 

His brother can deal with this. 

“Night, sweetheart,” he murmurs quietly, into the soft hairs at the base of Raleigh’s neck, and settles in.

+++++

Brushing his teeth, Raleigh’s aware of the fact that he’s trying to scour away the thought that hit him this morning, but he doesn’t really care. He doesn’t want it. He doesn’t want this, this mockery he’s made of his family.

He’s completely fucked up.

Completely.

Both, in like, he’s made a huge mistake and his head’s just screwed on wrong or something or... 

He spits in the sink, and there’s blood mixed in there with the fading blue of the cheap Crest shit that comes in the travel tubes. And behind, in the mirror, Raleigh can still see the sleeping form of his big brother. Still in bed. Their bed - his bed. The suite’s a double, but that didn’t stop Yancy from crawling in with him last night. Which meant Raleigh had to wake up with the big lazy lump curled around him this morning, and not move for a while because Yancy never gets to sleep in, and have nothing to do but look at Yancy’s stupid, pretty face.

The bastard even brought back dessert last night. It was so upsetting to discover it the fridge that Raleigh had to eat _both_ portions, and now he feels ill from that much sugar this early in the day, and it’s Yancy’s fault, everything is Yancy’s goddamn fault, making him feel...

But the phone starts ringing, a welcome distraction from this thing banging around in his brain - and come on, he’s always loved his brother, it’s not like this should be _new_ \- and Raleigh races for it. Just in case it wakes Yancy up.

“Oi, Becket, you comin’ or what?”

Chuck Hansen. Raleigh’s blood goes cold. Oh god, oh god, did they... “Umm, coming where?”

A pause. “Raleigh?”

“Yeah. Yancy’s still in bed.”

“It’s nine am.”

“Yeah, and?”

“And we invited you ingrates over for brekkie, so you fucking ingrates need to get here. I’m starving.”

Raleigh’s not sure what’s going on, only that he’s not sure what’s going on. He sits down on the unused bed, tethered to the center nightstand by the phone cord. Tries to keep his voice down. “What?”

“Breakfast. Gave your brother a key and everything. Get his arse up and get him up here. I want my fucking bacon, alright?”

The line goes flat; Chuck hangs up on him. Raleigh stares at the phone for a moment or two - that little shithead is so infuriating, it has to be intentional, doesn’t it? - but it’s Yancy’s hand that stops that damn annoying dial tone.

“Hey, kid,” he says, voice thick, hair spiked up at odd angles from old pomade and fresh sleep. “Wha’s up?”

“Uhh, that was Chuck. Offering us, umm, breakfast?”

Half-awake as he is, Yancy gestures for the phone receiver, taking it away. His fingers linger a bit on Raleigh’s hand, and it’s all Raleigh can do to keep himself from falling back in bed, right here, right now. God, Yancy’s so gorgeous, so strong. Raleigh wants to just wrap himself up in that big warm heart and stay there forever. 

_Way to go,_ Raleigh thinks glumly, _falling in love with your brother_.

“He was offering sex,” Yancy mumbles.

And that, Raleigh isn’t sure what to do with _that_. 

Yancy’s almost had this discussion with him. In a round-about, not-relating-to-them kind of way. Not recently. Back when he was still seeing Casey, before everything went to total shit with that arrogant Air Force fuckhead. Back when Yancy was still lost in trying to justify it.

 _Gay guys aren’t always exclusive,_ Yancy had told them on one of those late nights, after Mama had gone to bed but before Dad was back from the bars, Jaz still doing homework at the kitchen table and Yancy in the middle of making them all a midnight snack. “Even when you’re with somebody, it doesn’t necessary mean you cut yourself off from everyone else too.”

“Isn’t that cheating?” Jaz had asked.

“No, cheating is where you’re seeing other guys when you told the guy you’re with that you’re only seeing him,” Yancy had said, frowning at his grilled cheese sandwiches - Raleigh can still see it, the expression his brother had on his face as he frowned at the griddle. “Cheating is lying. This isn’t lying. This is totally above the board.”

“So Casey and you are seeing other people?” Raleigh pressed.

“Casey is.”

“Isn’t it kind of unfair if you’re not?” 

“No, Jaz, honey, it’s not unfair. You’ll see when you start dating. Sometimes you can have feelings for more than one person at a time.”

“Yeah, but why would he have feelings for somebody else? Aren’t you enough? Who wouldn’t want to be with you?”

“Jaz, I work fifteen hours a day. That’s hell on any relationship.”

“And what, he can just go get himself a second boyfriend because you’re busy?” she’d demanded. “That doesn’t seem fair!”

Yancy practically slammed her sandwich down in front of her. It was controlled, but barely, and Raleigh knew his brother well enough to see the hurt, the anger, in his expressionless face. “I’ve done it. I have no idea how it is for girls, but sometimes guys just need a little variety,” her told her, point-blank. “Now eat your snack.”

It was probably the nastiest Yancy had ever been with her, since all of them were in single digits. And while he apologized for it in the morning, and Jaz had punched him and then hugged him and told him he deserved all the boys in the world, it had always bothered Raleigh. Because, at the time, it was definitely bothering Yancy.

Now, on the other hand...

“Were you... going to... take him up on it?” Raleigh asks Yancy now.

Yancy, who yawns into his sleeve. “It’d be nice. Had a great time last time. Chuck’s a glorious little slut, and Herc... mmm, yes please.”

Raleigh frowns. He might have had another man’s dick in his mouth - a dick he’s related to, no less - but he’s sure not at all sure how he feels about the way Yancy talks about men and sex and gay stuff sometimes. Not that Yancy’s not always achingly respectful of him, but... yeah. “Yeah but, umm, what about...”

“You?”

It’s blunt. Blunter than he might have expected, and Raleigh winces. “Yeah, sure. Me. Us.”

“I don’t know, kid,” Yancy says, more serious now, less sleepy, and rolls over on his side under the covers. “What about us?”

Raleigh searches for the right thing to say, but there’s nothing available to him that makes any sense. Nothing but what comes out.

“I miss you.”

Yancy takes a few moments himself to reply, but when he does, he doesn’t say anything Raleigh was expecting either. Just rolls out of bed with a half-chub in his boxers and a smile on his face, and lays a hand on Raleigh’s cheek.

“Why don’t we go get breakfast with the Hansens?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I suck right now. Suck soooooo much. Stupid life.


	4. Chapter 4

Raleigh's mind is racing with questions, as they get dressed in silence. It's strange seeing his brother like this, thinking about his brother like this. Not that they haven't... done what they've done, but it's them. Him and Yancy. Just him and Yancy. 

While Raleigh's known since he was twelve that his big brother liked other boys, it's always been somehow external to them. Their family. Their bed - even their bed seems above simple analysis, reduction. Whatever it is that's going on between them, it almost doesn't feel right to call it fucking. It's them. Just... more. Like this is the logical end of them.

Too much of an end. Sure. The end of anything that's not them, obviously, considering that Jaz is gone. But still them. Maybe that's what's so scary about the whole thing. Raleigh's never thought about it like that, not until this moment, and the idea resonates.

Them. Not sex. Not wrong. Not-

Not gay.

This, on the other hand.

"You still with me here?" Yancy asks, smoothing down the front of Raleigh's shirt, hands warm but eyes tired - between jetlag, the hours he's been putting in back home, and the fact that he hates being woken up this early, regardless, he looks and sounds exhausted. "You still want to go?"

"You want to go..."

"Not what I was asking."

Raleigh considers lying. He doesn't, but he does consider it. "I just... you know me. Never done this before."

"Hey, neither have I." Yancy's rueful smile goes straight to Raleigh's gut. "It's not like it is in porn."

Yancy's offered, more than once, to pull up a movie or two. Silly shit, the stuff that he says is practically G-rated in comparison to some of the stuff that's out there. Raleigh's not entirely sure what constitutes G-rated gay porn - much less the X-rated stuff, because how bad does it have to be for regular fucking to be kiddie stuff by comparison - but that, even that, would make this whole thing more than just _more_.

God, he's fucked in the head. In love with his own brother and completely unable to conceive of himself as gay. So, so fucked.

"Porn?''

"Yeah."

"A lot of guys are real into the whole fantasy about a moresome."

"Like orgies?"

Yancy kisses his forehead, pulling him into a hug in order to do so. The familiarity of it is not helping anything, even if Raleigh clings right back. "Orgies, yeah. not... I mean, there are guys who are into, like, foam parties and shit like that, but Anchorage doesn't exactly have those kind of clubs."

''Foam parties?"

Yancy laughs, and kisses Raleigh again, swaying a bit as he hugs him. "Bad joke," he chuckles. "But seriously, we don't have to go down. Or take them up on what's on offer. Breakfast only?"

Closing his eyes, Raleigh digs his hands into Yancy's henley. His big brother has always been his source of strength, but since they started doing... more (since Raleigh went and fell in love with the big handsome lump) it's changed. Or Raleigh's changed. Another reason why this is all so hard.

Shit. Raleigh really has to stop thinking about this. He's going to drive himself insane with the over-analyzing. 

"You've, umm, with them before, right?" 

''Raleigh...."

"What?"

Yancy's hand is in his hair, kitchen-rough fingers tugging at his scalp. "It's just breakfast. And I fucking need some coffee."

It isn't necessarily kind - Yancy's always cranky in the morning - but it's about as gentle as gentle can be at seven-thirty AM, and they're both jetlagged. So Raleigh reluctantly lets go, unwinding himself from Yancy's body. "Fine," he starts, "we'll go get your lazy ass some caffeine..."

But before he can move away completely, Yancy grabs his wrist. "Your speed, kiddo. Chuck'll push, but we're going your speed." 

Raleigh twists his hand back up, fingers knotting through Yancy's. "Thanks."

''Good. Coffee's calling," Yancy grunts.

+++++

Despite Yancy's reassuring words, Raleigh still found his nerves growing, the closer they got to the Hansens' door. They aren't up on the penthouse level - which was a surprise to both of the Beckets, actually - but the floor was quiet and the doors far apart. Raleigh can't quite get the nerves under control, although he's not sure what that's all about. He's not really sure what any of this is about.

Doesn't need to be about anything though. It's just breakfast, isn't it?

Yeah. Breakfast.

Right. 

Yancy sort of eyes him as he taps the room key against the sleek little control panel, set into the door. It looks like he's going to ask again, _are you okay, are you sure_ , but whatever else Raleigh might be feeling, Yancy had this shit figured out years ago. Yancy's fine with it - whatever that _it_ might be, behind this door this morning - and none of it can possible be that bad, right?

"Foam parties?" Raleigh asks lamely, withering a bit under the force of his brother's concern.

Yancy just busts up laughing and shoulderSs open the door. "Yeah, right, foam parties. Jesus. Herc, you guys here?"

The last part's half-yelled into the wide room around them - not one of the party pads on the top floor, sure, but still quite an expansive suite, the kind where the beds are in other rooms and the minibar, Raleigh has to believe, is free. Higher than theirs too, with windows open to the Strip beyond. It's a more impressive sight at night, but Raleigh still can't resist wandering over to it, looking down twenty-five stories at the slumbering neon and half-empty sidewalks. Even now, it's an impressive sight.

"Now that's a lovely view," Chef Hansen's voice drawls behind them, and Raleigh turns just in time to see him pulling on an old, long-sleeved shirt over an expanse of hard muscle, scarred with old wounds and faded tattoos. Raleigh's mouth goes dry, something pulling in his gut.

"Good to see you too, Herc," Yancy says. He doesn't even have to reach out; Herc gets there first, sliding a hand around his waist, dragging him into a hard kiss.

And yeah, okay, Raleigh knows what that _something_ is. Arousal. Which isn't really a thing he's associated much with anyone, except Yancy, of course, but that's a whole different situation...

"Mm," Here says appreciatively, as Yancy pulls back a little."Good morning to you too."

"Chuck promised food?" Yancy replies, more than a little gruff, and Here just pats his cheek.

"Sprog's just finishing up with his shower," Herc tells him with a careless shrug that somehow manages to say so much more. He's bit damp himself, after all. And Raleigh finds himself more than a little disappointed that the man had to go and put his shirt back on. "How 'bout you, Raleigh? Feeling okay this morning?"

"Fine," he says, knowing he sounds defensive, but why shouldn't he be? That's his brother Herc has his hands all over, and Herc doesn't seem like the kind of guy who's fond of sharing. Not like Yancy belongs to anybody, and Raleigh's not even sure if Yancy would want that, being _his_. He sure has been fucking things up royally lately. "You?"

Herc's eyes narrow a bit in consideration before he lifts two of his fingers off Yancy's waist - where they still fucking _are_ \- to beckon Raleigh over. Heat rushing to his cheeks, Raleigh complies slowly, but there's not that much distance between them anyway. 

"You sure you're alright?" Herc murmurs and snakes those fingers up and over Yancy's side, and dammit, Raleigh's close enough to feel them ghosting over his own ribs. 

"Y-Yeah," he breathes in, body feeling like it's on fire now. Not just his face, but everywhere, and Raleigh's not sure what that's about. Yancy never makes him feel this out of control of himself, and...

"Good," Herc replies in that soft, slightly bemused way of his, and when Raleigh opens his mouth to offer some kind of further answer, there's no way to get the words out. Because Herc's kissing him.

Dimly, Raleigh sense Yancy step aside, but his brother's holding his hand again, and that's essential, because the world's tilting pretty damn fast and he's not sure what else to hold onto. Herc's not nearly as gentle as Yancy is - not that he's rough, but his kiss is far more demanding, as is the hand he wraps around the small of Raleigh's back, fingers and lips seeking something out that Raleigh wouldn't have guessed was in there before right now. It comes out in a whimper, with what little air is left in him to escape, and Herc's kiss gets positively biting.

"Jesus," he hears Yancy say, and Raleigh recoils a bit, not sure what that's all about. But Herc doesn't let him step away and Yancy just smiles. Tilts his head. "That's hot."

"What's hot?" Chuck grumps behind them, coming out of the bathroom in one of those waffled white hotel robes, red hair spiked up in water-dark locks. 

"D'ya order brekkie?" Herc replies, obviously ignoring the question entirely. He hasn't let go, and Raleigh feels himself relaxing into the strong arm that's wrapped around him. 

Chuck pauses for a moment, eyes roaming the scene in front of him, and grunts. "Course I did. Would'a thought the wankers would have it here by now."

''Reckon we have a few minutes then, oh?" Herc says breezily and it takes Raleigh a few moments to realize it's addressed at him.

'"Oh yeah, I, uhh...''

''Kiss him again, Herc," Yancy huffs, and, squeezing Raleigh's hand, lets go. "Chuck's right. That's damn hot."

''Oi, I didn't..." Chuck begins, but shrinks back a bit when Yancy heads over his way, grabs the half-tied belt on his bathrobe, drags him in close. It's rough too, forceful, beyond Raleigh's own experience with his brother. That tightness in his gut clamps even more forcefully down... it has to be arousal, but it just seems... different. 

"Shut up," Yancy murmurs, almost too soft to hear, "yes you did."

Raleigh watches Chuck thump Yancy on the chest, even as Yancy threads a hand through his hair, cradling his head, controlling it. "Arsehole. I'm not..."

"Yes you are," is Yancy's reply, but whatever the confidence in his voice, he still looks back over his shoulder at Herc. At Raleigh, and it's with a small thrill that Raleigh realizes Yancy is asking him, _him_ , for permission.

He hesitates, though. For a moment, he does hesitate. Yancy is his - his brother, his...his _more_. But Yancy needs this. Raleigh can see that in his eyes. And there's nothing uncomfortable about the details of the moment; the sunny space that smells vaguely of sex and coffee, the weight of Chef Hansen's arm around Raleigh's shoulders, the plush waffle weave of that damn bathrobe and damp red locks puffing up through Yancy's fingers.

Plus, as much as Raleigh's been pulling back lately, as confusing as the past couple of months have been, that ache still needs to be addressed. Blue balls are a pain in the ass, they really are.

So fuck it.

Nobody else seems to be worried about... the guy...sex... thing.

He relaxes back into Herc's chest, smiling a little at how the simple gesture seems to melt the tension from the room. "You look good, bro."

Yancy grins back and lets go of Chuck's hair, even as Chuck's leaning in for a kiss. "You guys got condoms?" he asks pointedly.

"What, like Dad's gonna let you bareback my arse?"

"Safety first," Chef Hansen drawls, and looks down at Raleigh. "We really do have breakfast coming."

And - like it was planned - that's when the knock comes at the door. 

Chuck huffs and rearranges his robe; it's definitely been migrating down his shoulders and stupidly muscled chest. How does he even manage to maintain that, working chef hours? "Yeah, I think they got that part, Dad," he grumbles, and goes to let the food in.

The suite has a table, but only two chairs, so they end up spreading out on the floor in the main room, cushions off the couch and the coffee table pulled to the center. Raleigh's half-expecting Chuck to bitch about the eggs being too rubbery or the toast cold, but instead, the brat just positions himself between Yancy and Herc and sets into eating with that same terrifying intensity he displays everywhere else. Herc, on the other hand, is move methodic, less urgent, and Raleigh finds himself grateful for the way the chef's hand seems to migrate to his knee and stay there though the meal. 

Nobody says much, expectation obviously in the air, until Yancy asks Chuck for the coffee carafe.

"You actually need it there, mate?"

Yancy arches an eyebrow. "I'd like it, yeah."

"That's nice," Chuck replies and climbs into his lap instead.

+++++

Herc doesn't so much hear as feels the gasp out of Raleigh, Chuck insinuating his slutty arse into Yancy Becket's arms. Yancy doesn't seem to mind, not with the way he's practically devouring Chuck's kisses, and Raleigh doesn't appear to be all that worried about it either. Just the opposite, actually. The boy's practically whining. 

God, these two are delicious. A wonderful find.

But whatever else can be said for _this_ , Yancy's a very promising new employee and Raleigh is definitely still a virgin in that way that matters, and the last thing Herc wants to do is screw any of that up for them. Even if his dick wants to be inside of them both. Like, yesterday.

Raleigh's going to be quite the voracious little bottom when Yancy finally wakes him up. When he finally lets go of whatever he's clinging onto. Herc can tell. The boy's got that look. That look Chuck used to have, before that night after Scott was indicted, when they both had a bit too much to drink and Herc decided it was in the family's best interest to stop ignoring what he'd been ignoring for years. That _come ravish me daddy_ look. 

Shame Raleigh doesn't have one of those around, but Herc's willing to bet Yancy is up to the task. 

Of course, some research into all of that, Yancy's qualifications, isn't a terrible idea, now is it?

Fuck knows Chuck's been whinging about wanting it. 

"Boys," Herc warns, and two sets of wide, blown-black eyes track over to him. He can't resist cuddling Raleigh a bit. Sweet boy. Lucky Yancy, getting to pop this cherry some day. "Lets move this to the bed, eh?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is giving me more trouble, for some odd reason... And my life is insane. I've got the easiest fucking part time job right now, and my life is complete chaos. Also just got an iPad Pro to replace my dying laptop and there are a few things that are buggy... Sorry for the delays (and I owe y'all some comments too).
> 
> IMO, the "foam party" is the best thing about this entire sordid American election season. I don't care if it's true or not that Marco Rubio is a closeted gay, but every time I hear the phrase "foam party" I start giggling uncontrollably. Couldn't resist...


	5. Chapter 5

Herc reckons he knows Chuck's body better than his own. What it needs. What it responds to. What it needs. 

Really, the boy reminds Herc of nothing less than that temperamental, POS, ancient arse Land Rover Dad had given him and Scotty back when they were teenagers, the one that only started in second gear and tended to break down in the rain. Nobody but them could ever drive the damn thing. Demanding, it was. Just like Chuck. And like that jeep, Chuck doesn't always perform for anybody but his daddy. 

Oh sure, Chuck fucks other guys on the regular - or whatever interval can be considered regular for a couple of celebrity chefs who have half the paparazzi in the Western world gunning for a clean shot of their many (non-sexual) indiscretions, and adoring fans with goddamn smartphones to cover any gaps. Chuck likes sex. Herc's never begrudged him that. Only way their relationship works, really.

Still, its a rare treat for Herc to actually witness the fruits of his own lagress first-hand. He normally has to settle for watching it on Chuck's laptop after the fact. Usually with the smug little shit curled up in his lap. 

(Of course Herc has Chuck record it for him. What kind of father would he be if he didn't keep tabs? It's all for Chuck's own good, after all. The boy has terrible taste in men. Except where his daddy is concerned. Of course.)

And this morning, this morning...well, the exhausted, harried, _resigned_ young man that Yancy usually is is gone. In his place is a viciously confident player.

One who's rather roughly manhandling Chuck back into the bedroom.

"Oi, mind the goods, Becket!" 

"Then move your ass Hansen and I won't have to drag you."

Herc rather likes that change of pace.

More observation is absolutely required. For both boys. 

Or all of them, really, considering the way Raleigh is turning an adorable shade of red. Herc supposes that's to be expected - Chuck's putting up a bit of a fight and Yancy's playing right along. Even though he might not realize the brat's playing.

"You still with me here, baby boy?" Herc asks softly, wrapping an arm around the boy's waist, just holding him in the quiet of the main room for a little bit. No rush. It's been a long time since he's had anyone to himself, and an even longer time since he and Chuck have had anything resembling a foursome; normally, Herc's too busy to even worry about it. But this he could get used to. 

"You fucking..."

"Yeah, knew you had an off switch."

"F-ff..."

Or maybe there's a slight blush.

Herc grabs the computer desk chair as an afterthought, pulling it along. ''You didn't answer me," he admonishes, mostly joking. 

Raleigh blinks, face turning up. "I... Yance... he's, uhh, he's not like this with me."

"Shame."

Raleigh's flushed, but it doesn't seem to be bothering him any. "So do I get to watch my brother fuck your kid or what?"

Here can't help the laugh, and he smacks Raleigh on his (very nice) jean clad arse, propelling him into the bedroom fully. ''Get in there, then," he chuckles.

It's quite a lovely sight that greets them, too. Yancy's got Chuck up on the bed already, the sprog half-smothered in the rumpled sheets and the overbearing fluffiness of that damn bathrobe he's been so smug about parading about in this morning. Chuck's wrestling him away while trying to keep as much contact with him as possible, but his cock's already a bright, hard red against Yancy's belly as the older boy twists him around on his back.

"This'll go a lot easier if you stop struggling," Yancy says in a voice that, even to Herc, sounds like a warning.

"I don't let just anybody fuck me, you wanker," Chuck throws back, imperious, and tries to squirm loose again. Yancy's grabbing for him, but ending up with handfuls of robe instead, and Herc is more than happy to just sit there and watch them wrestle, until a very hard smack resounds out into the room.

"Having fun there, boy?" Herc asks pointedly, twisting the chair around to his liking and sitting down. Very deliberate. 

Both touseled heads - one red and one blond - snap up. "Yes Daddy," Chuck says in his coyest voice.

Herc rolls his eyes and points at Yancy. "You, I meant you."

"I, uhh..." It's pretty clear Yancy's having a hard time pulling a coherent sentence together; his eyes are a little glazed and his jeans look painfully tight. "Its..."

"Not that he doesn't like a good spanking for time to time," Herc says and pulls Raleigh - who's still just standing there transfixed, despite his bold words a moment ago - down into his lap. Across his lap, knees on the outside of his, facing out. "But you don't leave any marks that don't fade by the time you're done, you got it?"

Chuck's taken the opportunity to stretch out on the bed, rid himself of that constricting robe, while Yancy just sits back over his heels, serious again. "Anything else?"

Raleigh is warm and heavy; feels like there's solid muscle under the ancient t-shirt he's wearing, and Herc has to check, doesn't he? He slips a hand under the faded cotton. Yup. Very nice. And either the kid's got no chest hair naturally, or he waxes. Very nice indeed. 

"Herc?"

"Hmm?" He looks up at the bed, hand still splayed out, exploring, under Raleigh's shirt. Chuck's completely naked now, Yancy's still fully dressed and... Oh yeah. "I'll let you know as you go."

Yancy cocks his head, that normally neat hair falling down in his eyes, and he's watching the way Raleigh's squirming, isn't he? "He's pretty sensitive," he says. "Don't rough him up."

Herc could say something about the red little bite marks on Chuck's neck, but instead, he just pulls Raleigh's body back against his own, drawing another shiver out of the boy. "I've always been a fan of variety," he purrs into Raleigh's ear, eyes on Yancy.

And Yancy, slowly, scoots down and bends in half and licks all the way up the underside of Chuck's cock.

"Oh shit, Yance..."

"Not so cocky about that are we, you little shit?"

Herc can definitely feel Raleigh's blush through his clothes. The kid's practically on fire. 

"How about that, sweetheart?" He whispers in Raleigh's ear as Yancy's attention turns away from them, fully intent on teasing the hell out of Chuck's erection. Herc snaps open the top button on Raleigh's jeans, drawing the zipper slowly down. "Your brother do that for you? Show you how good a blowjob is?"

"Y-Yeah," he pants.

"It's nice, isn't it, having your cock played with?" To his delight, the boy's not wearing anything under those jeans. Proper little cock-hungry bottom, this one. Once the two of them get over their bullshit, Yancy's going to have a right little monster on his hands. "Feels so good, having somebody touch you like that, doesn't it?" To emphasize the point, he slips a hand around Raleigh's own dick. Nice size, good and thick, not too long...

"Yeah..."

On the bed, Yancy's got Chuck's hips pinned down, working him with only his mouth. Herc spreads his legs a little wider, forcing Raleigh's further apart at the same time, and takes a firmer grasp of his cock, pumping slowly. "He likes having his ass played with," Herc tells him. 

"Oh does he now?" Yancy asks, looking back over his shoulder, fingers curling around Chuck's cock. "You like having you ass played with, honey?" he asks Chuck.

"I'm not your... ah shit!" he groans, Yancy tightening his fingers. "Daaaaad!"

"Did he slap you?" Herc asks, nuzzling Raleigh's neck as he keeps working the boy, easy and slow, with one hand, the other firmly wrapped around his waist now. "Hmm?"

"N-No, but..."

"Do as he says then, sweetie."

Chuck tries to glower, but the effect is rather lost in his next moan, Yancy moving back up to kiss him. The American whispers something in his ear, too quiet and too far for Herc to hear, but it must be good, because Chuck nods and groans and kisses Yancy back.

"How about you?" Herc asks in a low voice, pressing soft kisses to the back of Raleigh's neck. "You like being played with?"

"I... I don't really know," he admits, and that skin under Herc's lips is staining itself red again.

Honestly, what has Yancy been doing with the boy? Missed opportunity. Misses opportunities everywhere, way Herc sees it. "Get up," he orders softly, pushing Raleigh up. The boy goes, confusion stamped on his face, until Herc tugs at his belt loops. "These hav'ta go first."

A slight smile replaces the uncertainty, and Raleigh nods, gaze fixed on Herc as, over his shoulder, Yancy finally gets tired of the make-out session and pushes Chuck over, onto his belly.

Herc offers Raleigh a hand to balance, the boy shoving off and stepping out of his pants in a little too much of a hurry. He practically falls back into Herc's lap; there's nothing to do but catch him and laugh and take his face in both hands and kiss him hard.

"So Herc, got a question for you," Yancy calls from the bed.

Still holding Raleigh close, Herc chuckles again and looks over the boy's shoulder. "What?"

"Did you fuck him this morning?"

Hmm? Oh. Right. "Charlie," Herc says in his best mock-disapproving tone, "did you not clean yourself up?"

Curling up around the pillow Yancy undoubtedly shoved under his hips a moment ago, arse that Yancy probably had his fingers inside high in the airl, Chuck smiles that devious little smile of his. "Maybe, Daddy."

Raleigh chokes. Yancy sighs, knelt up over Chuck. His jeans are open, cock hard and practically weeping, a truly lovely state of dishevelment, if Herc does say so himself. "I, uhh..."

"Condoms are right there," Herc says, pointing to the nightstand. "Trust me, he's lovely when he's all loosened up like that."

"This is not normal," Yancy tells Raleigh as he reaches across Chuck's body, thick cock dragging across the sprog's arse and lower back, leaving a shining trail of precum in its wake. "Don't get the impression that we're going to be doing this a lot."

Raleigh shakes his head but looks at Herc, a soft little smile on his face. "Shame," he says.

Yancy snorts, and Herc hears another smack - lighter this time. When he looks back up, his newest employee has his son positioned facing them on the bed, arse in the air and face in the sheets. 

Perfect, really.

Herc really wishes he could fuck Raleigh. Best leave that for another time though. After Yancy's had a chance to pop his cherry, teach him a few things. Herc respects that - he didn't want anybody touching his Chuck until he'd taught his son a few things. Until he'd had first taste of that sweet little hole of his.

"Turn back around for me, cutie," Herc murmurs, brushing a stray lock of hair out of Raleigh's face. "You want to watch your brother fuck my boy, don't you?"

Raleigh nods, something different in his face. Determination, maybe, or resignation. Herc doesn't really fucking care. Sure, he fucked Chuck to within an inch of both of their lives about ten minutes before Chuck called the Beckets, and his refractory period isn't what it used to be, so it's not like he's dying to get his dick out and fuck something right now, but still. He's not a saint. 

He wants to see Yancy fuck his Chuck.

Yancy doesn't waste any time, either. Now that he's Had a couple fingers up Chuck's arse, the sprog's become remarkably compliant. There's no need to prep him - Herc's bigger than Yancy is, and Yancy seems to be remembering that - and he's gagging for it and Yancy clearly hasn't had his dick up Raleigh's hole in a while. He just rolls on a condom, lines up, and shoves inside.

Herc jacks Raleigh off through the whole thing, holding his chin up and face forward with one hand, working him faster and faster, in rhythm with Yancy's pace. Chuck moans and writhes but gives as good as he gets, slamming his hips back against Yancy's thrusts, the usual bullshit - _oi, that all you got you wanker, give it to me harder, ugh, like that, fuck my arse_ \- spilling out, driving Yancy's pace higher and harder. 

Herc's too engrossed in the sight in front of him to want to ruin it, or the stream of obscenities coming out of his son, with words, and that seems to be working for Raleigh too. And why wouldn't it? Chuck might have a reputation for being the foul-mouthed bad boy genius of the international culinary world, but Herc knows the truth; his boy is incredibly needy, and so so pretty. 

It's all very straightforward and pleasant, a sunny morning outside and the scent of sex filling the room, the sound of flesh meeting flesh, Raleigh's gasps and Chuck's groans and Yancy's grunts. Herc would be quite happy if the whole thing went on forever, but of course, it ends too soon, Raleigh freezing up and spilling all over his hand unexpectedly, as Herc kisses his neck again; Chuck whimpering and Yancy collapsing over him.

Herc indulges in a few moments of cuddling, letting Raleigh come back to himself, and then he picks the boy up and walks him the three steps over to the bed - about all his old back can take anyway. Raleigh immediately snuggles in right next to Yancy, belly and thighs sticky with his own seed. Chuck's a mess - anything that hadn't dripped out on its own earlier is definitely doing so now - but Yancy doesn't seem to care, even if it is getting all over the clothes he's still wearing. 

They all look good together, Herc muses, and wonders how many yearly trips to Vegas he can get away with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guh... Only took me over a week! Sorry, y'all!


	6. Chapter 6

"Hey Rals, you mind?"

Raleigh looks up and instantly regrets it, organic luxury shampoo smearing down into his eyes. "Fuck," he swears, dunking his head back in the spray of the shower.

"Sorry," Yancy replies sheepishly, still outside the fogged glass. Their own room just has one of those normal little bathtub combo things in the bathroom. The Hansens' is much nicer. "You, uhh, you mind?"

There's no avoiding it, so Raleigh nods and waves Yancy in, still scrubbing the subs out of his hair. It's getting a little too long, down past his ears, but Jaz is the one who always cut their hair - maybe a bit weird, but what isn't in this family, Raleigh wonders. Jaz at least liked doing it.

He tries very, very hard not to look at his brother's dick.

Because jesus christ, that thing back there in the bedroom... Raleigh had no idea Yancy could be like that. And while he's certainly thought plenty about it, he hasn't seen Yancy in action. At all. 

It looked... good.

Warm arms wrap around his waist from behind, and Raleigh can't stop himself from relaxing back into the embrace. He knows he shouldn't, but he doesn't want to not. It's all so damn confusing.

"Hey," his brother murmurs in his ear. "You've been in here a while."

"Do we need to go?"

"Naw, not at all. Herc's got a meeting at noon, but he said we could take his rental car, go look at apartments."

"Or we could go hang out by the pool for the rest of the day," Raleigh tries.

Yancy chuckles. "Or we could go to the pool."

Raleigh closes his eyes. He can still feel Herc holding him earlier, the pressure against his legs, holding them open, the hand on his dick... 

"How're you doing?"

"I'm fine."

"That was pretty intense back there."

"So?"

"After everything that you've... Like, with trying to figure this out and having something like that..."

Pulling away, Raleigh leans back against the shower wall, arms crossed. "Since when are you Doctor Phil?"

"This isn't about..."

"And you're a mess, bro. Gonna use that water or what?"

YancY looks down at himself, smiles ruefully as he reaches around Raleigh's shoulder for the fancy little chrome soap dispenser on the wall. "Fortunately, I think my jeans soaked most of it up."

Raleigh, despite himself, laughs. "That's the only pair you brought!"

"Herc said I could borrow some. We're about the same waist size, I think."

"Kinky, bro," Raleigh teases, like it's the old days and he's just giving Yancy crap and hasn't at all been fantasizing about what it would feel like to be pinned to a bed and taken as hard as Chuck was, back there.

Yancy's smile shifts into something more fragile, brittle. "This is what I mean, Rals. We can't keep dancing around this."

"You bottle up all that shit with the restaurant for years, but you wanna talk about me?" Raleigh asks, incredulous.

"Your big gay sexuality crisis? Yeah, I think we probably should."

Raleigh wants to snap. Wants tell him it's none of his damn business. But mostly, it's about not wanting to hear that word. "I'm not..."

"I kind of think you are, kiddo," Yancy says softly, and grins. "I think I would know."

Despite himself, Raleigh smiles. "You are a bit of an expert."

His brother nods, but this is obviously not one of those conversations that can be diverted into humor, because it doesn't stop. "You know dude, a lot of gay relationships... There aren't social roadmaps for these things. You gotta talk a lot, because there's a lot more to work out." Yancy doesn't seem as awkward about this as he does _determined_ , which is comforting somehow. "And with...us... I'm way out to sea here, so I only guess where you are with it."

"I'm not..."

"Rals."

"No, really, I'm fine, Yancy, it's..."

" _Raleigh_ ," Yancy says again, and touches his arm. "It doesn't have to be fine. We don't have to be fine. But we gotta be open with each other."

Raleigh doesn't know exactly how to answer that - what a guy can say to something like that - so he doesn't even try. Instead, he pitches forward into Yancy's arms. And just like always, Yancy keeps him steady.

Except they're both naked now. 

And Yancy's groin is still coated in both Herc and Chuck's cum. (The lube seems to be washing off, but dammit, if cum isn't a bitch to get off)

"I made Jaz leave," Raleigh whispers. "She's gone cause of me. I blew up what was left of our family."

Yancy strokes a hand back through Raleigh's sopping wet hair. Presses a kiss to his shoulder. "It's not your fault. This is Dad's fault."

"Not Jaz."

"Her world got turned upside down a long time before..."

"I don't need you excusing this away for me!"

"I'm not trying to do that. We... I'm sure this thing's upset her a lot, and I..."

Raleigh looks up at him. "What, she has to go live her own life? Needs her own time? She's sixteen! She's our sister!"

"And she's mourning Mom, and Dad. And us, in a way, I guess. But even if this wasn't going on... She's better off in California."

"Yance..." Raleigh pleads.

"Do you see this place, these people? I'm gonna be lucky if I'm not working eighteen hour days. Herc's a grade-a military hardass. He even fucks like a Special Forces guy. He will fire me if I don't put in the work. And you've got school, and you're gonna have to be working too..."

It's obvious where that's going, and Raleigh doesn't want to hear it. "We've got time to fuck each other, but not to take care of our little sister?"

"Remember what Mama always said? About Roma and family?"

"Yance, come on."

"No, Raleigh," and a hand slides under his chin, pushing his face up. "She's stil with family. She'll come back to us in her own time. It won't be the same as before, but she'll come back."

Raleigh wants to tell Yancy that he's full of shit - their family's gone, their sister's gone, and it's all because of this. Right here, naked in a shower together like it's no big deal. But he can see it in Yancy's face. All the stress. All the hope. Last thing his brother needs is Raleigh voicing some inconvenient truth.

It's odd. Raleigh might be the brother who takes more risks, who's the reckless one. But he's always thought of himself as pragmatic - Yancy's the hopeful one. Yancy's the optimist. Yancy's always the one there, helping Raleigh pick himself up again after whatever dumb shit idea he's tried ended in failure. 

"Raleigh? You still with me?"

"Yeah, yeah," and Raleigh turns his face into his brother's shoulder. "I'm good."

"Words, kiddo. Talk to me."

"About what?"

"This. Us. You and me. Do you want to keep doing this?"

Logic would seem to dictate that Raleigh should say no. There's nothing about this that's okay, that anybody will ever understand, much less accept, and there's probably some future for them where this ruins everything - Jaz is gone, after all, so it already has. No kids, of course, no more Beckets at all. Mama would have loved to have some grandkids...

"Rals," his brother murmurs, under the steady beat of the shower, sounding so uncertain, so heartbreakingly uncertain, "if you want me gone..."

But that thought is worse than any other eventuality, and Raleigh grabs his brother tight, burying his face in a water-splashed shoulder, hugged in as close as he can get. 

Yancy doesn't push him anymore. No words, anyway. They stand there for a moment, Raleigh clinging on for dear life, the heat and noise of the shower - suddenly so much more intense than it was - sweeping away any quieter doubts.

And then Yancy guides his face up, fingers gentle on Raleigh's wet cheeks, and Raleigh stops caring about anything else. 

His brother's the last solid thing in his life. What difference should it make how they love each other?

+++++

Chuck's still sprawled out on the messy bed, nose buried in one of Gundam manga, when Herc gets back. The sprog isn't much of a reader, and always preferred his school books on his tablet, but there's something about physical comics that he quite likes. Herc doesn't understand it, and Chuck doesn't talk about it, but that could describe basically everything in their relationship.

"So why'd you phone?" he asks without preamble.

Chuck points at the bathroom door without looking up. "They've been in there for like an hour. It'd be great to take a piss at some point."

THere are a lot of things Herc could say to that, but he already knows they'd all be useless. "I was headed to a meeting," he tells Chuck as he heads over to the bathroom door.

"Yeah, a meeting with our employees."

This is why he doesn't let the sprog own stock in the corporation. Herc sighs, and knocks. "You boys alive in there?" he calls.

A few seconds without an answer, and then the shower cuts off. "Sorry!" Somebody - probably Yancy - calls.

Because it is his hotel suite (and both those boys are quite lovely naked), Herc cracks the door. Doesn't say anything. Mostly, he just wants to look while he's still got a chance.

They're both flushed bright red - probably from the water - but Yancy's got a Big fluffy towel wrapped around his own waist, another looped around Raleigh's shoulders, and he's drying his little brother's hair for him. Raleigh's chuckling and half-heartedly trying to shove Yancy away, and Yancy's laughing back, and Herc feels slightly bad for intruding.

"Did you boys still want to borrow the car?"

Yancy looks up at him, slightly confused, as if he'd forgotten anyone else was still alive in the world. "Umm, I think we were thinking the pool."

"Chuck's probably going to beg his way along," Herc tells them, and closes the door again.

"Beg my way along for what?" Chuck asks - and sure, now he's put his comic down.

"They're going to go hang by the pool, likely."

"Ooh," Chuck says, and springs up. "You pack my suit, old man?"

"Chuck."

"What?"

"You should probably let them have some time."

"Why?" Chuck looks genuinely confused about this, that cranky pout crossing his handsome face, the comic book finally down. "We just fucked, didn't we? I can't hang out with the bloke?"

"Yancy's an employee," Herc reminds Chuck (and himself). "Don't get too attached."

"Why? You jealous or sum'thing, old man?" Chuck runs a hand down his body. He's only recently started getting proper chest hair in, and he's well aware of how distracting Herc finds it. "Did watching somebody else fuck your boy make you angry, Daddy?"

Herc sucks air. Damn the boy. "What if we have to fire him?"

''We won't. He's a fucking good cook," Chuck says, and his fingers find his cock. Herc has a flash of Yancy there, playing with his boy, touching his boy there. He's honestly not sure if it's jealousy, protectiveness, or arousal that sends the flush to his skin. ''No reason why I can't go hang out by the pool, is it now?"

And Herc's not sure what to really tell him. Chuck doesn't take no for an answer, not when he wants something. The sprog has never had any siblings, no brothers... hell, he could never really even make friends. That used to worry Herc, but then came the fire and losing Angie and Chuck drifted away, only staying out for a fierce determination to be better than his old man in the kitchen, only coming back, truly back, when the sex started up. Wasn't ever something they talked about, just kept at until they didn't need words.

Thankfully. 

They both suck at talking. 

But the Beckets... the Beckets can't become family. Because they aren't family. And while Herc has to let Chuck have his freedom, it doesn't mean he wants to give Chuck up. Lose any part of him. Not even to Yancy Becket. Maybe especially not to Yancy Becket.

"They need some time, sprog."

"Why?"

"If you haven't noticed, they are brothers. Seems to be a bit of an issue."

"So what?" Chuck snorts. "We fuck. You and Uncle Scott kissed a few times, didn't you?"

"Only when he was really high," Herc sighs. And hello, there are some memories he doesn't want to be accessing right now.

Fortunately - or unfortunately, depending on a bloke's point of view - the bathroom door cracks right about then, Yancy sheepishly asking about that pair of jean Herc had promised him, Raleigh somehow managing to look smug and embarrassed at the same time. Herc wonders if they were fucking in there. Probably not. Yancy wouldn't pop his brother's cherry like that. Too uncomfortable.

Herc doesn't much care if Yancy's an employee, really. Just means the boy's his.

He rather likes that idea.

+++++

Chuck begs along for the day. Imposes himself, more like, but Raleigh doesn't seem to mind and Yancy isn't all that worried about it. They just head to the Neptune pool anyway, claiming a cabana for their own and ordering more than one round of margaritas from the cute girl running drinks. Chuck's touchy and Raleigh's feely - probably the alcohol, but Yancy's buzzed enough within the first half hour to not be bothered by it.

Raleigh's gorgeous in the worn-out Walmart swim trunks he's got on, and Chuck's quite the sight, despite the obscenely expensive set he's got.

Not that Yancy knows that much about clothes. Casey was a whore for fashion. The label's familiar.

Eventually though, the desert heat gets to be too much for Raleigh and Yancy's head is swimming from that last margarita, and there's no sense in running up their bill anymore. Chuck waves Yancy off but grabs Raleigh for a kiss, and it looks like he's already flirting with somebody else.

"Is Chuck, like, umm...

Yancy looks back over his shoulder at his brother's murmured question. The girl's got nice tits - not like a man can't admire the aesthetics of the things - and she clearly knows who Chuck is, but it's not going to go anywhere. "Naw, no way. He's probably just keeping up appearances."

"Why bother? What difference does it make to anyone if you're gay or not?"

"I don't know," Yancy says, and grabs the door for a pair of forty-something women, who look at him and Raleigh and smile at each other. "Mama knew plenty of lesbian chefs, but I can't say I've met that many gay men in the kitchen."

"That makes no sense."

"He is fucking his dad," Yancy points out.

Raleigh shrugs and pulls his shirt back on, a small little smile on his face. He's a little drunk. But then, Yancy supposes, so is he. Just buzzed. Just enough to feel good. 

Enough not bother with his own shirt, to flick the damn thing over his shoulder and maybe slip a hand into Raleigh's back pocket, savoring the feel of all that hard muscle against his palm. Swinging a sledgehammer on demo crews on the weekends has done amazing things for his little brother's body.

Yancy's not sure what's going on Raleigh's head. But Raleigh doesn't push his hand away - leans into Yancy's side, actually. 

Sure, they look like brothers, but at the same time, Yancy's known more than one gay couple that look similiar. Nobody gives them a second glance on the way to the elevators.

Fuck. They might get away with this after all. If it's going to work anywhere, it'd be Las Vegas.

It's almost three by the time they get back to their room. There's an envelop on the floor, like somebody shoved it under the door, with a rough note on the back.

"Whatcha got there?"

"Looks like something from Herc," Yancy says, and turns it around.

_Thanks for keeping the sprog company. Enjoy your evening. Shit's a bit poncy but what happens in Vegas and all._

There's a pair of tickets inside for one of the Cirque du Soleil shows in town, the one just down the street at Treasure Island. 

"Huh," Yancy says, and waggles the thick, glossy things at his brother. "Wanna go see a show?"

"What time's it at?"

"Eight, looks like," he replies, attention on the writing. Tequila lays havok with his ability to read straight, apparently. "We could get dinner beforehand, or walk around out on the Strip or..."

"...or stay in," Raleigh replies, taking the tickets, tossing them away onto the TV stand, moving into Yancy's arms. He's still hot from the afternoon, a bit of red around his neck and nose from where the shade of the cabana didn't quite stop the sun, and his eyes, his eyes are full. "We could just stay in."

"Is that what you'd like to do?" Yancy asks carefully, laying his hands on his brother's shoulders, pushing him back a little, so he can look right into his eyes. That conversation in the shower earlier hadn't gone anywhere, not really, and that last thing Yancy wants is to make anything worse. "If we stay in, what do you want?"

Raleigh's sunburn spreads out, into a full flush. "You. Us."

"Us how? You want to cuddle or make out or take another shower..."

"...or you could fuck me."

Yancy blinks. "Umm, did you..."

"Yeah," and Raleigh smiles, soft, like he's six again and sharing some secret his stuffed animals have told him. "I did."

"That's not something we should just do, just because."

"I know," Raleigh says, and takes Yancy's hands in his own, pulling Yancy back towards the bed. He smells like chlorine and summer, his clothes clinging to his still-wet frame in all the right places, and Yancy's never wanted to kiss anybody the way he wants to kiss Raleigh right now. "I don't want to do it just because."

"Then tell me why," Yancy says, voice low. Raleigh's knees hit the side of the mattress, and Yancy moves in close, holding his little brother steady, his little brother's cock pressed to his thigh. "Tell me why you want my dick in you, sweetheart."

Raleigh _shudders_. "Jesus."

"Too much?" Yancy asks, pulling back.

But Raleigh grabs him by his waistback. "Not fucking nearly enough." He grins. "Not enough fucking at all."

Yancy's only got so much self-control, so thank god he got off already today, but he still doesn't let Raleigh wrestle him down. "Why this, Rals, and why now?"

"Yance, come _on_."

"Words, Raleigh. I need words."

Raleigh just shakes his head. "If I'm... If I'm gay, dude, I wanna know what that's like." His eyes are steady, locked on to Yancy. "I wanna feel what you let Chuck feel this morning."

Yancy licks his bottom lip, dimly aware of it, and wonders - uncomfortably - if he's ready for this. "I don't have have any condoms."

"Then just come in me, bro."

It's so earnest, Yancy feels bad for laughing.

Raleigh was always the more determined of them; Yancy's made his way through life following his talent, letting it carry him where it would, putting his faith in finding himself in the right place at the end. Raleigh, on the other hand, just makes things happen, trusting himself over anything else. He's the fighter in the family. He just _goes_ for things, and there's not going to be any fighting him on this.

So Yancy lays him down. 

He's always thought of anal as a rather straightforward act. Stretch, lube, insert, thrust, repeat. Yancy's never broken in a virgin before, and certainly never done this with a guy he loved so much... there's nothing straightforward about it.

Raleigh's tight, impatient, at once eager and slightly nervous, but they've got all the time in the world; Yancy uses it as best he can. It takes a bit of shuffling to find a comfortable position ("Why do I need to be on my stomach, this sucks" "yeah well you don't exactly have a vag, Raleigh, gotta come in through the back door") and quite a lot more work to calm the shakes that start up after Yancy pays a bit too much attention to Raleigh's prostate ("holy fuck, Yance, Yance stop, I can't breathe"). But they get there. As much as Raleigh can take, anyway, which, even loosened up from the margaritas, is only about four inches.

It takes Yancy about thirty seconds to realize Raleigh's nowhere near comfortable (kid lost his erection the second Yancy pushed inside), so he doesn't even bother trying fuck him. Instead, he pulls out, urging Raleigh closer until he can lick one of those tears off his little brother's cheek.

"I'm still... This doesn't mean I don't..."

"Shh," Yancy tells him, and kisses Raleigh's cheek, runs blunt fingernails down his back, holding him under the warm duvet. "I know. I'm kind of thick too. Probably not the best thing to start with."

"I want you, though."

"I know. We'll get there."

''Yancy..."

"I know. Nothing good comes from forcing it though." He pets Raleigh's shoulder, and Raleigh pillows his head on Yancy's arm. "I love you."

"Love you too, bro."

They both fall silent after that. Cuddle. Kiss. Soak each other in. Let things flow where they will. Where they always were going to go.

Yancy lets his mind wander. Off to whatever little apartment they're going to rent. What meal he'll cook, when they finally move in. What life will be like-what might change and what will stay the same.

Wonder what they are now. But be it brothers or lovers or partners in crime (is incest illegal?) maybe it doesn't matter.

Raleigh is everything. 

They do go to the show that night. 

Yancy does stop at an adult entertainment shop on the way over the other hotel and buys Raleigh a buttplug. 

Seems like a good idea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not really a good first time, or a first time at all... sorry about that. 
> 
> Just a tiny bit more to do. I need more Chef Gage!


	7. Chapter 7

Trevin’s seen just about everything, in the decade he’s been working in Vegas. What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, and all that crap, but what the tourists don’t seem to realize is that they’re being _watched_. Especially by the staff members they don’t interface with. Sure, it stays here, but it _stays here_. Stays with everybody who works here.

A guy has to learn how not to judge.

So Trevin doesn’t go as far as to point out to his newest sous chef that yeah, he watches every episode of _Restaurant Rescue_ , and yeah, the Gipsy Cafe episode makes it very, very clear that that adorable blond boy who greeted Yancy the other night with a big kiss is definitely his younger brother.

Adorable. 

But related.

Even in Vegas, that demands further research.

He hadn’t watched the episode until after Yancy came on board, and even at that, he promised his newest sous chef he had no interest in knowing a goddamn thing about his past failures. Hadn’t wanted to make Yancy feel uncomfortable. 

Of course he watched it though; like Trevin was going to pass up that bit of research. At least it was obvious from the episode that it’s not his fault the place was in the shitter. That was some peace of mind right there.

But this Raleigh thing...

“What kind of vibe did you get off those Becket kids?” Trevin asks his own brother, hopefully in a way that comes across as casual.

“Like what?”

“Like anything, dude.”

Bruce doesn’t answer right away - which is never a good sign - and opts for getting up and helping himself to a beer behind the Uluru’s bar instead. His camera equipment is staged on the counter just beyond them, while Mako’s in the kitchen helping the Hansens and Yancy set up for the shoot. 

No good doing a follow-up episode without following up on the most watched episode of the year. A nice little montage of Yancy cooking in his new digs, taking some pointers from Chefs Hansen and Hansen, fitting perfectly into his new world here in Vegas.

_With all the challenges he faced, it was clear that Yancy was drowning. I had no desire to see a talent like his squandered, so we offered him a job._

Mako will write a nice voice-over. And it’ll be a nice round-out. The Gipsy Cafe might have closed, but at least they managed to salvage Yancy from the wreckage of his parents’ bullshit. Trevin can’t believe he turned down culinary school for that bullshit up there in the frozen north. 

And more to the point, it’s actually good to have Yancy on the team. Trevin’s taken a genuine liking to the kid. Sure, Yancy had a few rough nights at first, but he got the hang of things pretty quick. He also had a bit of a breakdown in Trevin’s office about a week ago, the afternoon after Trevin had praised him for a perfect service, insisting that he was only here because the Hansens wanted him.

Life’s about relationships, though. Who you know, how you know them. Would Yancy have found himself in a Michelin-starred kitchen without Herc intervening? No. Does it matter? Not from where Trevin sees it. 

Kid should have told his family to go to hell, and taken his ass down to Boulder, and actually gotten his culinary degree. He was better than Alaska - and truth be told, he’s got the talent to be better than a Las Vegas steakhouse. 

But Trevin’s not one of those bosses who hates hiring people smarter or better than him. Call it the ex-military guy in him, but he wants to see his brigade learn and grow and move on to bigger and better things. Do more than he has. If they can, and Yancy can. Three months in now, and Trevin’s considering letting him put a special on the menu next weekend (and not just because the Caesar’s Palace management is begging him to let them cash in on the reality TV star they have in Uluru Steak’s kitchens). Yancy’s a damn good cook, but he needs some polish and some serious discipline if he’s ever going to run his own brigade.

Trevin’s confident he can get him there.

Still. This Raleigh thing...

Bruce shrugs. “So, umm, yeah, we talked about this. That entire week up there was fucking weird.”

“Is this where you start bitching about Alaska again?”

“Fuck you,” Bruce replies, but he’s drumming his fingers on the bar. “We haven’t told him this, but the research team found out his dad’s officially listed as a missing person now.”

“Jesus.”

“They’re close. Makes sense, considering what they’ve been through together. Like, you and me close, except they aren’t twins.”

“I don’t think we’re close like they’re close.”

“How so?”

“Like, they apparently have no problem necking on each other.”

Bruce considers this. Carefully, it seems. He sips his purloined IPA. “Yeah, I could see it,” is what he says when he puts the bottle down again. “Raleigh was extremely protective of Yancy when we interviewed him. Through the whole damn thing, actually. Do you know the reason why that shit went down is because somebody got pissed off about the name?”

Trevin knows his eyebrow is going up. It is, he can’t control it. “What?”

“Yeah, gipsy, gypsy, like it was racist or some shit. Raleigh told Mako all about it. None of it made the final cut but,” cue more beer, “Raleigh was extremely defensive about Yancy. Told us his brother didn’t deserve to have his future ruined by some little S-J-W at his college, whatever that means.”

“That seems like normal shit.”

“I don’t know,” Bruce shrugs. “They seem like the kind of brothers who’d make out in a back alley together.”

“This makes no sense.”

Bruce smiles; they both know that Trevin knows exactly what he means. It’s not helpful, but Trevin gets it.

“Does it matter?” Bruce asks. 

“No, not really, but I’m pretty sure he’s fucking the boss too.”

“Oh yeah. I can see that too. Which one?”

“If I said both of them?”

Bruce just shrugs. “Nobody’s getting pregnant, so who the fuck cares?”

Sometimes, Trevin wonders what they put in the water down in LA.

But to his point, Yancy’s still a good cook. It’s not like he’s going to have sex on the prep tables or anything like that...

Not that Trevin would put much of anything past Herc Hansen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I spend two months working on a dress for the Battle of San Jacinto reenactment this weekend, and it looks like we're going to get rained out... ugh. (I promise I'll get a dress blog up this weekend; don't want to cross the streams if I don't have to)
> 
> In other news, CHARLIE HUNNAM AND RON PERLMAN ARE GOING TO BE A CON IN MY CITY NEXT MONTH!!!!!!! Do I wear my Pacific Rim cosplay? Do I dare do that? Is that weird?

**Author's Note:**

> I've got some idea about what I want the boys to get up to... Raleigh's first time, of course. ;D But I'll take suggestions! Things are coming sloooooooowly right now.


End file.
